Catch me, I'm falling. (Lexa/you)

Chapter 8

Your POV.

The hallways were bustling, much like the bumper to bumper traffic on the local freeway on weekends. Hell, the kids even honked and cussed like they had road rage.

You felt like a sardine, packed between rows and rows of monotony, yet, of your own kind.

It was oddly comforting, the normalcy of it all, especially since your incredibly embarrassing run in with Lexa Woods.

God, you were pathetic.

You were in a state of utter confusion. Yes, you'd been triggered, that had happened to you before. What surprised you was Lexa. Lexa's reaction, Lexa's behavior.

You'd expected laughter.

You'd expected Lexa to make fun of you, to point and stare at the senior who couldn't handle the fire alarm, without ever getting to know the reason why and then offering you a meek apology before someone else eventually did it.

Your eyes had been scanning the rows of heads before her, mostly those of shorter freshmen who hadn't quite discovered the wonders of deodorant. And then you noticed them making way.

They never made room.

Of course it was for her.

Lexa Woods was there, parting the red sea of freshmen like Moses himself, as they all took a little moment to stare at her ass, whisper something in awe, or simply grumble something about "owning the hallway".

You watched the way Lexa's emerald eyes found yours throughout the crowd, and how a soft smile pulled on her full lips, nothing like the smirk you'd seen time and time again. Lexa weaved her way in and out of the clumps of students like she was a fine sports car in a traffic jam.

She stopped right beside you, brushing against you, her lips almost by your ear.

You felt chills shoot through your body at the close contact, but Lexa didn't dare to touch you.

"Here." She murmured softly, handing your sketches and your notebook over.

You wanted to say something. You felt like you had to apologize, even, for ruining a perfectly good study session. You wanted to apologize for being so broken. So poorly bent out of shape and incapable of handling the simplest of tasks.

But Lexa's eyes told you you didn't have to be sorry at all.

"Next time―" Lexa whispered with a friendly smile. "―you don't have to run away, (Y/n)." She murmured, giving your wrist the tiniest of squeezes.

Before you could reply, Lexa was gone, leaving you to blink in confusion.

What had just happened?

You glanced down at your weighty sketchbook, biting your lip as you flipped the front cover open. Taped inside were two art pencils, the exact same model you used, new and fully sharpened.

You felt something erupt inside your chest, and realized it was your heart.

The only other person who had these pencils was Costia.

Lexa must have asked for them.

You didn't know whether to feel anger, for Lexa's apparent pity, or overwhelming emotion because Lexa noticed.

You didn't know how to feel at all.

So you settled on numbness.

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